Dirty Girl (The Hot Mess Series), Volume 1

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  My heart jostled in my chest and I couldn’t breathe for a second. I didn’t want to be in Panera anymore, even though I loved this place. I wanted to be somewhere else with Quinn. Somewhere alone.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah. Fine.” I was just feeling warm in certain places. I crossed and re-crossed my legs under the table.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Yup.” Her eyebrows drew together, as if she still wasn’t sure. I mean, I could just tell her, but I didn’t want to be a total creeper. We’d been reconnected all of a week and here I was, having lusty thoughts about the girl sitting across from me at Panera. I was still so new to this queer thing that having below-the-belt thoughts about a non-cishet dude still pulled the wrong switch in my brain. Not wrong, exactly. It was more shameful. Coming into queerness as an adult was a bitch sometimes.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked. I guess I’d gone quiet, which was rare for me. I tended to blather on too much. With Quinn even forming a sentence was hard.

  “Just a lot of things. Life. Being queer. Soup.” I wanted to keep things light. We’d gone through a lot of heavy stuff already.

  “What about soup?”

  “How good it is. I love soup. All kinds of soup.” And there was the babbling.

  But Quinn didn’t nod and go back to her meal and leave us in awkward silence. Instead, she started talking about the different kinds of soup that she liked, and how she made it at home. I started drooling partway though her description of her chicken noodle. Such a simple soup, but a lot of people made it so poorly.

  She talked about soup and carried the conversational weight until we were both done with our food. It was late and the date was coming to its natural end, but I didn’t want it to.

  “Would you like to get a drink with me?” I blurted out as we stared at our empty plates.

  “Sure,” she said and bused the plates. My chest wouldn’t stop fluttering and my hands had started to tremble. What if she thought the drink offer was me trying to come onto her? Did she expect us to go back to one of our places and have sex? Why was dating so damn complicated? There should be better instructions.

  “We don’t have to have a drink drink,” I said when she got back. “Like, a sex drink.”

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  Did I really just say “sex drink?”

  Quinn suppressed a smile.

  “What exactly is a sex drink? Is it some new fetish?”

  This was terrible. Everything was awful. I wanted to die.

  She held the door of the Panera as I tried to get my shit together.

  “I just mean, um, that it’s not a come on. Like, hey, let’s have a drink and then go back to my place for some sex things.” If Zeus could strike me down right now, I would be grateful.

  Quinn was still trying not to laugh.

  “Oh, of course. That kind of sex drink. Well, I didn’t think that was what you were offering. Just so you know. I wouldn’t be opposed to a sex drink, if you were offering. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.” Oh. OH.

  “You wouldn’t be opposed?”

  Holy hell.

  She took my hand and pulled me into a little alcove beside the Panera.

  “Not at all,” she said, and then her lips were on mine and I was the one being pushed up against a dirty brick wall.

  My hands went to her waist, digging in and pulling her closer. One touch of her lips was like igniting something inside me that was going to consume us both. I reached, I begged, I took from her mouth as if it was to sustain my very existence. She wasn’t gentle, and I wasn’t either. Most of the kisses in my dating life had been sweet and meh. This was anything but that. This was something beyond kissing. This was a melding of two people to each other and I would never forget the way this moment felt. Never.

  Our tongues moved against each other, fluttering and tasting. I’d never really been one for French kissing. It always seemed messy and you could never get the rhythm right with another person.

  Not so with Quinn. Our bodies were speaking the exact same language, singing the same song. A song of lust and want and desire and need. Pure, naked need.

  I nipped at her bottom lip and she made a little moaning noise that basically undid me. I cupped her face as if I was going to somehow pull her closer, even though that was impossible. No two people could be closer than we were.

  My head spun as she gently pulled back, her lips turning soft and careful. The kind of kisses that made your chest ache.

  I dragged air into my lungs and gasped a little.

  We blinked at each other and there was a haze over everything except for Quinn. She planted a kiss on the tip of my nose.

  I couldn’t even speak. I hoped she would break the silence first. But how did you have a normal conversation after something like that? A life-altering kiss.

  “Mmmm,” she said, her tongue tracing her lips, as if to collect the taste of me.

  “Is that good?” I said, still breathless.

  “Yes. Very good.” Her voice was low and thick and desire sparked between us. Quinn nuzzled my nose with hers.

  “I want you,” I said.

  “How much?” she asked, pushing some hair out of my face.

  “A lot?” I didn’t have words for how much I wanted her. Needed her. Images of her naked in my bed doing unspeakable and dirty things to me made my head spin.

  “You still sure about that sex drink?” she asked and I had to rewind my brain back to that conversation. It seemed like it happened a thousand years ago.

  “Just a regular drink right now,” I said. She leaned forward and licked my bottom lip.

  “That’s okay. Kissing you will give me enough material alone.” I knew exactly how she felt.

  She stepped away and I reluctantly peeled myself off the wall. Of course I promptly tripped and nearly ate pavement. Quinn saved me again.

  “I can’t keep my balance around you,” I said.

  “I feel the same way,” she said, and when I stood up, she didn’t let go of my hand. She twisted our fingers together and our palms met. I hoped mine weren’t sweaty. That was always a risk with handholding.

  “You ready to go to the bar to have a regular drink?” I nodded and we started walking together.

  Fast. This was all really fast. I was going to have to sit down with Bonbon and hash it out when I got home later. Right now, I was going to float on the glow of kissing Quinn and being in her presence.

  “I can’t believe I used to hate you,” I said.

  “I can. What I did was awful.” I’d thought it was one of the worst things to happen to me at the time. Honestly, it had been. But she’d been a part of it. Just one part. There had been a lot going on, and I was grown up enough to say that I was ready to move on from it. That I was ready to forgive. The fact that she’d turned into the kind of person she had didn’t hurt either. Not just the way she looked. It was the way she carried herself, the work she was doing, the way she made me feel. It was the whole Quinn Riley package.

  She squeezed my hand and smiled at me.

  “I’m really happy we crashed into each other. And I’m even happier that you agreed to go to dinner. I didn’t know it was going to lead to all this,” she said.

  “I know. Sometimes life knocks you sideways in a good way. I’m used to things being bad, but all of this,” I said, holding our joined hands up and kissing the back of hers, “is very very good.”

  A small voice in the back of my mind told me that it could also be very very bad. I shoved that voice aside, but it was still there, chanting and taunting.

  Maybe a few drinks would drown it out.

  Nine

  We made it to the packed bar and had to squeeze our way through. Quinn wouldn’t let go of my hand the whole time, and I wanted to yell and let everyone know that I was holding this absolutely gorgeous girl’s hand and she was on a date with me. Too bad most everyone was
completely focused on themselves to notice us. I still had broccoli cheese soup on my shirt, so maybe that was a good thing.

  “What would you like?” I asked as soon as we’d been able to push our way toward a bartender.

  “Whatever you’re having,” Quinn said in my ear. I figured I would be ordering for both of us.

  I quickly scanned the drink menu and ordered something sweet with rum. So what, I liked my alcohol to taste like candy sometimes. Sue me.

  “Is that okay?” I asked her and she nodded. I could tell she wanted to get away from the crowded bar, but we had to wait for our drinks. I tucked myself as close to her as I could.

  “Hey,” I said, touching her chin to distract her.

  “Hey,” she said, smiling.

  “Can I see you tomorrow? Or would that be too much?” she said. I had to pause before answering to get our drinks. Quinn finally had to let go of my hand, but took it as we shoved our way to a corner with a high top table. There were no chairs, but that was fine. We could lurk until something opened up, if it ever did. This was the place to be, apparently.

  “I would love to see you tomorrow,” I said as she sipped her drink. “Is it okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s good.” I tried mine and it tasted like a boozy fruity candy. Delicious.

  “What would you like to do?” she asked, and there was an edge on the way she said it that made me think of bruising kisses and naked skin.

  “I don’t know, did you have anything in mind?” I played along.

  She leaned closer and spoke in my ear, her lips grazing my earlobe.

  “Something with a little less clothing and a lot more kissing,” she said and I shivered, even though the bar was hot and stuffy.

  “That sounds like something I might be up for,” I said.

  “Good,” she said and I turned to give her a kiss. I couldn’t help myself. Someone bumped into us and I had to break away from Quinn to glare at the person, but it didn’t work out because I was distracted by a cheer from the other side of the room. A dude was standing on a chair and waving a drink around.

  “It’s my bachelor party!” he slurred and a group of dudes cheered around him and raised their craft beers. I looked at Quinn to roll my eyes, but her face had drained of color.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “That’s Spencer,” she said, pointing with a shaking hand at the guy on the table.

  “What?” I squinted, but the light was murky and I couldn’t really make out his features. Spencer had always had kind of a generic white dude look anyway. Blonde hair, blue eyes, football build.

  “It’s him. It’s Spencer.”

  He turned and started dancing, and I caught a good look of him under the light.

  “Holy shit, it is Spencer.”

  How. How had this happened? Of all the places in the world that he could be, he was here.

  WHYYYYYYY...

  TO BE CONTINUED IN DIRTIER GIRL (THE HOT MESS SERIES, VOLUME TWO) *evil laugh*

  Acknowledgements: I’m going to keep this short and sweet. Thanks to my editor, Laura, who always has my back and works her magic every single time. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.

  To my love, my support, my One, my Only, my dear heart, Allie. Thanks for the help with the cover and for giving me the time and space to write.

  These past few years have been some of the hardest of my life and I don’t know what I’d do without my writer friends. Seriously. You all keep me going.

  Special thanks to all my Patrons on Patreon, especially Brandi and Elly. You all do more for me than I could ever do for you. Thank you for all your support.

  Lastly, to you reading this. Writing is a hard job, a solitary job and some days you don’t know if it’s worth it. But when people read the words you’ve written? That’s the best. It makes all that time and sweat worth it. Thank YOU!

  About the author:

  Chelsea M. Cameron is a New York Times/USA Today Best Selling author from Maine who now lives in Boston. Lover of things random and ridiculous, Jane Austen/Charlotte and Emily Bronte Fangirl, red velvet cake enthusiast, obsessive tea drinker, vegetarian, former cheerleader and world's worst video gamer. When not writing, she enjoys watching infomercials, singing in the car and tweeting. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Maine, Orono that she promptly abandoned to write about the people in her own head. More often than not, these people turn out to be just as weird as she is.

  Other books by Chelsea M. Cameron:

  Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles, Book One)

  Nightmare (The Noctalis Chronicles, Book Two)

  Neither (The Noctalis Chronicles, Book Three)

  Neverend (The Noctalis Chronicles, Book Four)

  Whisper (The Whisper Trilogy, Book One)

  Deeper We Fall (Fall and Rise, Book One)

  Faster We Burn (Fall and Rise, Book Two)

  Slowly We Trust (Fall and Rise, Book Three)

  Together We Heal (Fall and Rise, Book Four)

  My Favorite Mistake (Available from Harlequin)

  My Sweetest Escape (Available from Harlequin)

  Our Favorite Days (My Favorite Mistake, Book Three)

  Sweet Surrendering (Surrender Saga, Book One)

  Surrendering to Us (Surrender Saga, Book Two)

  Dark Surrendering (Surrender Saga, Book Three)

  Surrendering to Always (Surrender Saga, Book Four)

  Deep Surrendering

  For Real (Rules of Love, Book One)

  For Now (Rules of Love, Book Two)

  UnWritten

  Behind Your Back

  Back to Back

  Bend Me, Break Me

  Style (OTP Series, Book One)

  Chord (OTP Series, Book Two)

  Brooks (Benson Brothers, Book One)

  Second Kiss (Violet Hill, Book One)

  Double Exposure (Violet Hill, Book Two)

  Second Chance (Violet Hill, Book Three)

  Find Chelsea online:

  chelseamcameron.com

  Twitter: @chel_c_cam

  Facebook: Chelsea M. Cameron (Official Author Page)

  Instagram: chelccam

  Sign up for her Patreon!

  Dirty Girl (Volume One) is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2018 Chelsea M. Cameron

  Editing by Laura Helseth

  Cover by Alessandra Morgan and Chelsea M. Cameron